Comes a Gambler
by MaverickLover2
Summary: When hard times hit the B Bar M Ranch, Bart is forced to go back out on the road to practice his old profession . . . playing poker.
1. Hard Times

Comes a Gambler

Chapter 1 – Hard Times

"I don't see any other way." That was what I told Doralice just this morning. And, honestly, it was the truth.

It had been one thing after another, each one worse than the last. Beau's horse slipped crossing a stream and fell on him, breaking his right arm. Bret caught something from one of the kids and was so sick he couldn't get out of bed. One of the horses we bought from Tennessee came down with something the vet called 'Eastern Fever', and within three days he was dead – but not before he'd spread it to almost every horse in the place. We lost the whole crop of yearlings and more than half of the foals born that year. The B Bar M was hurtin' financially and we had nothing in the way of stock left to sell. We needed money, and we needed it desperately. And there was only one way that I could think of to get it . . . playin' poker. That was the only way out of this financial mess we found ourselves in, and that's what I told my wife.

"Oh Bart, no," Doralice protested. "There must be somethin' else we can do."

"What? Put the kids to work? I've sold everything I can afford to sell. If I sell the stock that's left, we won't have anything to rebuild with."

"What about Maude's? I know Mama would sell the saloon if you asked her."

I shook my head. That was the last thing I could do. "Without Maude's, your mother and pappy wouldn't have any income." Even the saloon had gone through a dry spell and Pappy had invested all his funds to keep it afloat. "No, blue-eyes, I'm gonna have to go back out on the road."

I guess I better explain everybody. I'm Bart Maverick. Bret is my brother and Beau is our cousin. Until a few years ago me, Bret and Beau were professional poker players. Some of you might call us gamblers, but Pappy would tell you,you're dead wrong. Poker is a science, a beautiful game when played properly. He oughtta know . . . him and his brother Ben practically invented the game. Pappy is our father, Beauregard Maverick to be exact.

Me and Bret talked about cattle ranchin' when we came home from the war, but we wanted to travel so we did . . . and made a nice livin' by playin' poker. Only thing was, came time when we both wanted to settle down and raise families, we needed a different way to make a livin' . . . somethin' that didn't require us to be gone all the time. So we put together a horse ranch on property I bought from Uncle Ben. Over the years I added more land to the ranch, and we all had houses built there. Everything went pretty well for a long while, until the floods of 1885 came along. It cost a lot to put the place back together, and then everything just seemed to go wrong.

By the time we lost most of the livestock, we were in hot water. I couldn't see any way out of it unless one of us went back out on the road playin' poker. Bret was sick as a dog and Beau's arm was broken; Ppapy and Ben were too old. That left yours truly.

Like I told Doralice, I didn't see any other way out. I hated to leave her and the kids, but what else was I gonna do? Lucien, our foreman, could run the place while I was gone. Doralice and Maudie, our oldest daughter, could handle the bookwork. It had been a long time since I'd played more than recreational poker, and I knew I was gonna hafta sharpen my skills if I was gonna make any money. So I rode into Little Bend and went to see Billy Sunday at Maude's. Billy was the manager of the saloon, and I wanted him to set up some games for me.

They had to be 'practice' games – we'd each start out with so much money and at the end of the night everybody would get back what they started with. I needed to touch the cards, get my head in the game. To remember what it was like to feel the urge to win. The need to win. Because that's really what it was . . . I needed to win. If I didn't, the B Bar M and everything we'd worked so hard for would be lost to the creditors.

I played every night for two weeks. I wasn't as sharp as I'd been before, but I was a damn site better than the majority of the men I played against. And the more I played, the better I got. It all came back to me, like a long lost lover. I missed spending the nights with Doralice, who I'd loved for so long I couldn't remember a life without her. We both understood that what I was doin' I had to do, and if I could make it all work there'd be a lotta nights when I could hold the beautiful blonde in my arms, and I wouldn't have to let her go.

I sat her and Maudie down and had a good long talk with both of my girls. I was dependin' on them to see to it that things ran the way they were supposed to while I was gone. Lucien was in charge of the ranch end of things, but I needed to know the two of them could figure out how to keep us afloat until I could bring some money in. It was gonna be a week or two until I could make any money. Assuming I could beat gamblers out in the real world.

It was past time to go, so I packed my old travelin' bag and had Lucien get Baron ready. I kissed all of the little ones and told them I loved them, and that I'd be back as soon as I could. Then I hugged Maudie and she kissed my cheek, and I reminded her that I knew she'd o her very best, and I couldn't ask for any more than that.

Then came the hardest part, saying goodbye to Doralice. I remember a time when she wasn't mine and saying goodbye was easy. But that was a long time ago, and I hated having to leave her now. Especially with the burden I'd laid on her shoulders.

I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her, then held her close for long minutes. I wanted to remember the scent of her, the feel of her hair brushing my arms, the taste of her lips on mine. Leaving Doralice was gonna be the hardest thing I've ever had to do. "Just remember how much I love you," I whispered in her ear.

"I know. I love you, too," she told me. "Please be careful."

"I will be, blue-eyes. Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck, gamblin' man. You've got skill on your side."

I mounted Baron and kicked him into a trot to get away as fast as I could. If I'd turned around and looked back I never would have left, and I had to go. Our whole future depended on it.

I bypassed Little Bend and rode straight to Abilene. That was far enough away for me to sit in on my first poker game and see what I could do. I found a saloon named 'Jesse's Place' and tied Baron up out front. It wasn't real big, but there were two poker games goin' and there was an empty seat at one of them. "Do you mind if I join you, gentlemen?" I asked.

"Might as well," the big redhead on my right said. "We're goin' nowhere fast. Maybe some new blood'll help."

"Ante and limits?"

"Twenty-five dollar ante, no limits." That came from the older man sitting straight across from me.

I threw in my ante and we were off.

XXXXXXXX

Six hours later I excused myself. I couldn't keep my eyes open and I'd just been spinning my wheels. There was a hotel right next door and they were cheap enough, so I got a room for what was left of the night and sat down on the bed. Time to see how much damage I'd done to my stake.

I was surprised when I counted it. I was up about twenty dollars, and I wouldn't have believed that possible the way the cards were fallin'. And I didn't help any the way I played. I'd gotten a false sense of confidence the way I played at Maude's, but I can only assume it was the caliber of the men I'd played against. The men at 'Jesse's' were poker players, and I did a lot of scrambling to stay anywhere near even. My poker skills had certainly gotten a workout, and I could only hope that the beating I_'_d taken would help to sharpen my instincts.

I slept five or six hours, then got up an shaved. I went downstairs to see how expensive breakfast was gonna be, and I was pleased to find their food prices as cheap as their rooms. The food wasn't half bad, either. When I finished I went back upstairs and packed my bag, then checked out of the hotel. I'd had the good sense to take Baron down to the livery before I went to bed, so at least one of us was rested. I saddled him and mounted, headin' for Lubbock where I hoped my luck would be better.

It wasn't. This time I was lucky to break even. Another night in a cheap hotel, and the next morning I headed for Amarillo. If something didn't change soon I was gonna be sleepin' in the stall with Baron, and I was gettin' too old for that.


	2. Denver

Chapter 2 – Denver

Whether I'd run into a bunch of men that didn't know how to play poker or my skills were improving when I got to Amarillo. I didn't care which, just as long as it continued. By the time I'd quit for the night I was up over one hundred dollars. It was the first truly positive result I'd had since this trip started. I was glad to see it, but at the same time I didn't expect it to be smooth sailing from now on.

I stayed another night in Amarillo, and the second night wasn't as good as the first. I made about thirty dollars that night, probably because I was missin' my family so bad and all I could think of was Doralice. I decided to head for Denver, which meant I was gonna be sleepin' on the ground for two or three nights. My back hurt somethin' fierce on the first night but it got better after that. I was fortunate that I didn't see any Indians, and when I finally got to Denver I was more than ready for a hot bath and clean clothes.

I hadn't been in the city for a long time, and things had certainly changed. There used to be so many saloons with poker games in them that you couldn't begin to keep track of them; now there were no more than five or six. The saloons were still there, it's just that gambling wasn't allowed in most of them.

I went looking for 'Mama's Place' and finally found it. They'd moved two or three times since I was here last, and they were a darned lot smaller than they used to be, but they still had three poker games goin'. Two of them had seats open, and I picked the one that looked the most promising. By the third hand I knew I'd chosen the right one. To my left was Red Simpkins, next to him was Matt Brown, then Jackson LaForge, to my right was Duncan McFall, and next to Duncan was Sam Frazier. The only one that seemed to have any knowledge of the game was Matt Brown, and his was, at best, limited. I won the third hand, then the fourth, fifth and sixth. I would have felt better about my poker if I hadn't realized the other men were so . . . well, bad.

I deliberately lost the next hand. I had what turned out to be the winning cards, but I thought if I didn't lose a game somebody might starting questioning my play. We played all evening and well into the morning, and I couldn't wait to get up to my hotel room to find out how well I'd done. Once I counted it all I had over three thousand dollars. I took the money down to the front desk and asked them to put it in their safe. The desk clerk handed me an envelope and watched me count the money out, then put it in the envelope and wrote '$3,000, Bart Maverick' on it. With what I had left I paid for three nights lodging and kept the rest for a stake.

I went back upstairs and slept soundly for the first night since I'd started this journey. It was past one o'clock when I finally woke, and after I shaved and got cleaned up I went downstairs to get somethin' to eat. Duncan McFall was at a table by himself and he waved me over, so I sat with him. "Either you're a very lucky man or you're a damned fine poker player, Maverick."

"Right now I wouldn't bet on my bein' a fine poker player, Duncan. Are you boys playin' again tonight?"

"Sure, just as soon as we're done eatin.' Care to join us?"

"Sure, if you'll have me."

"You're more than welcome. It might have cost us all a small fortune last night, but I don't think we've ever had so much fun. You sure did make it interesting."

His remarks made me chuckle. "I hope you mean that in a good way."

"Oh, I do. We had a good time last night. Poker with you is, well, it reminds us why we all love the game. Usually we just sit around and grumble at each other."

"I fail to believe you all had a good time yesterday, given the monetary outcome of the games."

"Oh, but we did," Duncan insisted. "We don't get the opportunity to play with a man like you very often anymore."

"A man like me?" I asked, guessing what was coming next.

"A professional. A gambler who don't cheat."

"I used to be a professional. I gave that up a long time ago."

"Well, Mr. Maverick, I'm sure glad we're playin' against you now, and not a long time ago."

I felt the need to set things straight. "I'm a horse breeder now, down in Texas."

"If you don't mind my askin', what are you doin' in Denver playin' poker?"

"Did you hear about the floods down in Texas?" I questioned him.

"Yeah, pretty bad down there, I hear."

"We were in the middle of it. I can't begin to tell you how much we lost. The ranch needs capital, and I got no other way to get it. That's between you and me. I don't want anybody at that table feelin' sorry for me."

"It ain't nobody else's business. Any idea how long you're gonna stay?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Not any longer than I need to. I miss my family too much."

When we finished eating I grabbed the check. Duncan protested, but I reminded him that I'd made more than enough money last night to pay for a meal. We walked next door to 'Mamas' and found Red and Sam already there. "Good work, Duncan. You found him." That from Sam, accompanied by a big grin.

"No, actually, he found me," Duncan answered.

"I figured you wouldn't want me back after last night," I told them.

"Nah, it's only money. We had a real good time last night, and we were hopin' you were still in town. We told Duncan to invite you back if he found you." Red sounded really pleased.

"I'm flattered." After I came away with three thousand dollars I assumed the last person they'd wanna see was me.

Matt and Jackson got there a few minutes later, and after everyone ordered drinks, we started playing poker. We played a little faster tonight, and the increase in speed seemed to help my game. The pots weren't as big, but there were a lot of jokes told and a lot of laughter around the table. By the time I got upstairs to my room I was ahead by fifteen hundred dollars and an invitation to join the group the nextnight._ 'One more night,' _I told myself,_ 'and then I have to go someplace else.' _Why, when I was having such a good time? That was the very reason. I was enjoying myself too much, and I needed to play cutthroat poker. My objective was to win enough money to keep the ranch afloat, not sit in a saloon in Denver with a bunch of men I'd just met and enjoy myself.

Back downstairs to the front desk. I wanted to add another envelope filled with money to the one already in the safe. We went through the same thing as the night before, with the desk clerk counting the funds, inserting them into the envelope, followed by sealing and my putting '$1,500' on the outside, along with 'Bart Maverick.'

Back upstairs I went, undressed and got into bed. "Hang on, everybody," I whispered before drifting off to sleep.


	3. Headin' South in Colorado Springs

Chapter 3 – Headin' South in Colorado Springs

As I had planned earlier, I played one more night in Denver. The next morning I got up, packed my bag, and went downstairs to collect my money. Once that was safely tucked in my wallet I stopped in the dining room just long enough to eat breakfast, then retrieved Baron from the livery and headed south, towards Colorado Springs. I wanted to stop and see what I could do before heading home.

I only intended to stay one night, but as fate would have it I was there much longer. The town still had three saloons where poker was played, and I chose 'The Red Garter'. I did so well that first night that I decided to stay over another night. That's where my trouble began.

I went to 'The Hole in the Wall' the next afternoon, and spent most of the day there. In the early evening I left to get somethin' to eat, and when I returned one of the men I was playing with had changed. I left Bob Brown, Edgar Sampson, and Luke Wallace, but the fourth man was different. I was welcomed back to the table and introduced to Walter Dawkins, and something about the man just didn't sit right with me. I should have left the table then and there, but I stayed to play out the night.

I had been winning fairly regularly earlier in the day, and I was hoping it would continue that way. It didn't . . . it quickly went downhill. No matter how good a hand I had, Walter had a better hand. When I had three kings, he had three aces. My full house, jacks over sixes, was beaten by his kings over sevens. If I had a pair of sevens he had a pair of nines. It didn't take long to figure out that he was cheatin' . . . I just didn't know how.

He had no discernable tells. The deal was bein' passed around the table, so he was doln' it some other way. I had to keep him playin' so I could figure out how he was doin' it; that meant I kept on losing. It was well into the night when Walter finally decided to quit, and we were both invited back to play the next night. Considering how much I'd lost, I figured the smartest thing for me to do was stick around another night . . . because if I couldn't catch him at it, I was going to undo all the good I'd done the last week and go home with nothing.

I was early the next afternoon. I wouldn't be leaving to get something to eat today; my stomach was a mess with worryin' about how Walter was cheating. What bothered me the most was the fact that I couldn't figure out how he was doin' it. There was a time in my life when it would have been easy for me to spot his nefarious methods, but it had been so long since I'd played poker regularly that some of my skills were rusty. I kept going over and over all the ways to cheat that Pappy had taught Bret and me, so we'd be able to spot a cheater quickly. I could only remember about half of what he'd taught me, and it was not only frustrating, but it had cost me a lot of money. I needed to get that money back so I could go home to my wife and family and have enough to keep the ranch afloat until we could get back on our feet. Damn, why hadn't I just gone straight home like I originally planned to? Or left Colorado Springs after playin' here one night?

Bob came in next, then Edgar and Luke. No Walter. Had he made enough off of all of us, me in particular, that he wasn't tempted to take us for one more ride? We started playing poker and my winning ways returned to me. That just proved my theory that Walter was cheating. We'd been playin' for about an hour and I had recouped about two hundred dollars of what I'd lost the night before when Walter strolled in, lookin' for all the world like a cat that had finally caught a mouse. The very first hand that we played after Walter arrived, I had a small straight. Walter had a Queen high straight.

I watched him carefully for the next hour and things finally started to fall into place. When it was his turn to deal, he was dealin' his hand off the bottom of the deck. When he wasn't dealing, I noticed that he always held his cards in his right hand, but his left hand was firmly entrenched on the table. It took another two hands before I saw it . . . the cuff of his shirt was thicker than most normal shirts. That's used to hide the holdout machine, later known as the Kepplinger Holdout, after the man that invented it. Pappy had told me about the contraption, but I'd never seen one. It's the most undetectable of the holdout devices, and I would never have figured out that's what it was if I hadn't studied his left hand and noticed the unusual cuff. It's complicated and takes a lot of skill to make it work, but once you've figured it out it's the best of the holdout machines.

Now that I knew what he was using, I waited another two or three hands before saying anything. Dawkins had just won another hand and I turned to Luke Wallace, who was sittin' to my right. "Say, Luke, don't you find it interesting that Walter seems to be able to beat my hand, no matter what I've got?"

Luke was the kind of fellow that got what you were talking about without having to go into detailed explanations; and I'd seen him watching Walter, too. "I was wondering about that, Bart. Do you suppose he's got a second deck hidden somewhere?"

Walter started to reach for his gun, but mine was already out. "Put your cards down and put both hands on the table, Walter. Bob, would you go get the sheriff?"

"Can do," Bob pronounced and he was out the door.

Walter started to wiggle around and I told him, "Sit still, Walter, or I'll have to shoot you and then we'll find your holdout machine after you're dead."

Bob came runnin' back with the sheriff, who took one look at Walter and barked, "You again? I thought I threw you out of this town."

"He's got a holdout machine in his left sleeve, sheriff," Edgar informed John Law, who drew his gun and made Walter stand up.

"Let's see it, Dawkins," the sheriff, whose name was Willoughby, ordered the card sharp. Walter rolled back one of the double cuffs on his left wrist and there, sure enough, was the reason I couldn't beat the man. Willoughby started to gather all the money up off the table and I stopped him.

"Don't you think that belongs to us, sheriff?"

"Of course it does, Mr . . . ?"

"Maverick."

"Of course it does, Mr. Maverick. And you all will get it back as soon as the trial's over." Willoughby walked Dawkins out of the saloon and over to the sheriff's office.

"Any idea when he'll be tried?" I asked.

"Oh, a week or so. Soon as the circuit judge gets here."

I collapsed into my seat. The money I needed to keep the ranch afloat had just been impounded by the Colorado Springs sheriff. Now what was I supposed to do?"


	4. Stuck in LOdi

Chapter 4 – Stuck in Lodi

What could I do? I had to wait until the circuit judge got to Colorado Springs to try Walter Dawkins on a variety of charges. I wired Doralice and told her I was stuck here for at least another week, but I was fine and would be home as quickly as I could.

We finally got word that the judge was on his way, and the trial would begin in three days. That was good news to me. I'd been playing poker ever since Dawkins was arrested but I only had five hundred dollars to start with, so the size poker game I could sit in on was limited. I'd been able to build that back up to a little under a thousand dollars in the week we'd been waiting, which was nowhere near enough to get the ranch out of the hole it was in.

I was desperate to get my money back and get home to my family. Waiting the three days for the trial to begin seemed like weeks instead of days. When the judge finally got there and the trial started, I was the happiest man in Colorado Springs. It didn't take long for the evidence to be presented and the jury to render their verdict – guilty on all counts. But the judge did something when the trial was over . . . he sentenced Dawkins to three years in the state penitentiary and fined him ten thousand four hundred and seventy-two dollars . . . the exact amount of money the sheriff had promised to be returned to the four of us when the trial was over. In other words, the judge kept our money and used it to pay Dawkins fine.

Bob, Edgar, Luke and me all went to the sheriff and protested. He knew it was our money and not Walter's, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Sorry, boys, I can't help ya."

Then we went to the judge. He told us that since the money was in Walter's possession at the time of the arrest, the law considered it his money. And there was nothin' we could do about it. It wasn't too much of a problem for the other men . . . oh sure, they all lost money, but I was afraid I'd lost the ranch.

There was only one thing to do, and that was go back to playin' poker. I sure wasn't goin' to 'The Hole in The Wall,' so I found myself once again at 'The Red Garter.' I did find an open chair, but I played for almost fourteen hours and won just a little over three hundred dollars.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to ride back to Denver, so I decided to head for Albuquerque instead. It took me three days to get there and I was exhausted by the time I arrived. I put Baron in the livery, got a hotel room and went straight to bed. It was almost nine the next morning before I woke up and I needed a bath. After I made arrangements for that I went down to breakfast. My bath would be ready just about the time I was finished gettin' some food in my belly.

By the time I'd bathed, shaved and changed into clean clothes it was past noon. Time to wander over to a place called 'In Principle' and see what I could do. The only games goin' weren't high stakes games, so I was gonna hafta work my way back up. It was rough goin' – the men I was playin' against were a cut above the ones I played against in Denver. Another fourteen hour day, another four hundred dollars.

I collapsed into bed again and repeated the day before, minus the bath. This time I found 'Molly's Joint' and figured it was as good a spot as any. I thought maybe it bein' named the same as Maudie's horse it would bring me good luck. It was a little better, but not much. But I did meet a fella named Jeff Curran,Jefferson Curran, to be exact. He was at the same table and when the game finally broke up we went to breakfast together.

"Bart, you play poker like a man whose very life depended on it."

"In a way it does, Jeff." I then proceeded to tell him the whole sad story, including what had happened at Walter Dawkins trial in Colorado Springs. And how I'd had to start over winnin' the money back to keep the ranch from goin' under.

"Can you stay until Friday?" He questioned me when I was done.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to," was my reply. "Why?"

"There's a high stakes poker game startin' Friday at the Belle Grand Hotel. I have an invitation to sit in but, quite frankly, I ain't got the money. I'd be pleased if you'd go in my place."

The waitress came and brought us coffee, and told us about the breakfast specials. "That sounds good," I told her. "Bring me one of those and keep the coffee coming."

"Make it two," Jeff added. After she'd gone back to the kitchen he asked, "Well, how about it? Will you take my place?"

"You sure this ain't just pity talkin'?"

"I'm positive. Are you in?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir, sounds like my kinda game. What's the buy-in?"

"They kept the buy-in low, deliberately. Fifteen hundred dollars."

"I've got just enough, assuming I don't hit a losing streak between now and then." This was almost too good to be true. "Tell me what you can about the men playing."

"They're all skilled players, I'll tell you that. But from what I saw of your play this evening, I'd say you fit right in with 'em."

The waitress came by with coffee and told us our food would be right out. Soon as she was gone, Jeff gave me the lowdown on my opponents. "There's Steve Sherman. About your age, tall fellow with light colored hair. Wears glasses. Then we got Chris Hardstead, somewhere in his fifties I'd say. Shorter than Steve and heavier. Dark hair goin' gray. Norris Ramsey, looks like a bank president, but he ain't. I'd say he's about thirty-five, walks with a limp. Next is Jim Davis, and you'll enjoy Jim. He's got more stories than any man alive. Early forties, I'd say, with dark hair and a scar across his chin. Last one is Earl Jones, got a New Orleans accent and gray hair. He's the deadliest."

"Tell me more about Jones."

"He's a hard man to describe. Got the best poker face of the bunch, and plays close to the vest. Can't ever figure out what he's thinkin'."

"Why'd they set the buy-in so low?" That had me really curious. Most games of this magnitude had a five or ten thousand dollar buy-in.

"They decided they'd rather put the money into the betting. At least that's the reason I was given. They're havin' a meetin' tomorrow night at the Belle Grand, and I think we should go. I'll introduce you around and you can try to put the names with the men. That might help some."

Our breakfast came and we talked about . . . what else? Poker, our families, and anything else that came to mind. I went back to my hotel room and laid in bed for the longest time, thinkin' about how much I missed Doralice, and wonderin' how I'd ever managed to live the life of a rovin' gambler for as long as I had. Maybe it was my age, maybe my love for the blonde that had been in my life for so many years that I couldn't remember life without her, maybe I was just worn out. I just knew I wanted to go home. And I knew that I couldn't . . . yet.


	5. Showdown

Chapter 5 – Showdown

We went to the meeting at the Belle Grand and Jeff introduced me to everyone. They were polite and cordial, and Earl Jones almost broke my hand with his handshake. There was something about the way the man carried himself that made me think Jeff was right, he was the deadliest of the bunch.

I played poker up till Thursday night, quitting at nine o'clock and retreating to my hotel room. By that time I had almost three thousand dollars, enough for the buy-in tomorrow and enough to get me started. I wanted to make sure that I got plenty of rest; it wouldn't do for me to show up tomorrow all sleepy-eyed.

Play started at noon, so I shaved and cleaned up, then went downstairs for breakfast. I found Jeff drinking coffee and sat with him while he waited for his food and I ordered mine. Plenty of coffee came next, and of course our talk turned to the poker game. "Have you noticed any tells on our poker friends, Jeff?"

"Just one or two, Bart. Sherman orders another drink when he's got a good hand, don't matter whether he's drinkin' whiskey or coffee. Ramsey fiddles with his cards, movin' 'em back and forth in his hand like that's gonna change somethin'. Haven't been able to find anything on Hardstead, Davis or Jones."

"I appreciate the help, Jefferson. Especially since I haven't been able to play these men before sitting down at that table."

"Normally I wouldn't give another poker player the help I've given you . . . but you're at a disadvantage with them. You goin' over there when you've eaten?"

I nodded while I ate a bite of my food. "Yeah, I figure it never hurts to be early." I looked down at my plate; I'd eaten about half of what I ordered. I pushed the plate away. "No appetite."

"I'm goin' home for a while. I'll come back later and see how things are goin'."

"Alright. Thanks for everything, Jeff."

He slapped me on the back of the shoulder as we both got up from the table. "You're welcome. And I hope you play well."

I tipped my hat and headed across the street, over to the Belle Grand. I was early but the room was open, so I went in and had a seat at the table. If they had prearranged seats they could move me later. It was about fifteen minutes later when Jim Davis walked in, followed shortly by Norris Ramsey and Steve Sherman. Next came Chris Hardstead. The last one was Earl Jones.

"Gentlemen, I didn't know if you have already picked out your seats, so I just sat down. I'll move if you want." I figured I'd give 'em a chance to move me.

"Stay where you are, Maverick. We didn't choose seats." That was Davis.

"Well, we know who's ready to play, don't we?" Earl Jones questioned, and laughed. The rest of us laughed too.

Everybody took a seat and Jones continued, "Alright, gentlemen, the buy-in is fifteen hundred dollars. Let's have your funds, and whoever's left standing at the end of this game gets the whole shebang."

We all produced our buy-in money, and Jones held it all on the side. That meant that the winner got nine thousand dollars. Quite a tempting reward.

Everybody anteed and Davis dealt the first hand. I was dealt three of a kind, a pretty decent hand, but I had no intention of trying to win either of the first two pots. I needed to see how everyone played, and that was the best way to do it. Hardstead took the first pot with two pair. Ramsey took the second pot with a small straight. By the time the next game started, I had a pretty fair idea of what I was up against.

The third game came down to me and Davis. Jeff was right, he was the deadliest. I hadn't been able to figure him out, so I just bet my hand and prayed. I beat him that game with a king-high straight to his three of a kind. He took a long, hard look at me, like he'd just decided I was a good poker player.

From there on it was me against Davis. Jeff was right about Sherman and Ramsey, and I picked up on Hardtsead's tell pretty quickly. He kept shuffling and re-shuffling his cards. I couldn't see anything on Davis or Jones.

We played right through what would have been supper, and shortly after that Sherman folded. He'd simply run out of money. We lost Ramsey next, then around midnight Hardstead was out. That left Davis, Jones and me. I wasn't about to count my money while I was still at the table, but just from glancing at it it looked like I had about twelve or fifteen thousand dollars. It appeared that Davis had less, and Jones about the same as me.

We played on through the night, and the Belle Grand brought in food for anybody that wanted it. I was subsisting on coffee, Jones had been sipping whiskey all night. We finally lost Davis sometime after nine in the morning when I beat him with three of a kind against two pair. That left me and Jones. We fought back and forth for most of the day; he'd win one hand and I'd win the next. We took a break at three o'clock, and Jeff came in to see what was happening.

"You and Jones, huh?" Like he had to ask. "That's kinda what I figured, having played against both of you. Watch out for him, when he thinks he's got you up against a wall he gets a little reckless with his betting."

"That's what I'm hopin' for," I replied. "I'll see you later." I grabbed a cup of coffee and hurried back to the table. We played for another three hours before I finally began to get an edge on Jones. The way he'd been goin' I didn't think that was ever gonna happen. It was nine o'clock before I'd worn him down, and from the look of his poke I'd say he was on the ropes.

We played two more hands and I won both of 'em. Then he looked across the table at me and said, "Maverick, I didn't think you were that good when we started, but this ain't the first time I've been wrong."

"I played poker for a lotta years, Earl. But it's been a long time since I played professionally."

"Well, let's get on with it." At that point, I think he was just as anxious to get it over with as I was. It was his deal, and I was glad for that. If I won, I couldn't be accused of cheatin'.

The first card he dealt me was the Ace of Hearts. It made me think of Doralice, and how much I missed her. My next card was the ten of Spades. That was followed by the Jack of Diamonds, then the Queen of Clubs. My fifth card was the three of spades. I bet five-hundred dollars. Earl matched it. Then he asked how many cards I wanted. I kept hearin' Pappy in my head, "Never draw to an inside straight."

I couldn't help it. I had to take a chance. It was all or nothing. "One," was my answer, and I threw in the three. Jones dealt me a card, and I held my breath as I picked it up and turned it over. I couldn't believe it . . . it was the King of Spades.


	6. Goin' Home at Last

Chapter 6 – Goin' Home at Last

Just as I was comin' out of my fog, I heard something I hadn't expected from Earl Jones. "Bart, I tap you."

"You sure you want to do that, Earl?" I questioned him.

"I'm sure," came his swift reply.

I laid my cards on the table, as did Earl. I stared as he laid down the King of Diamonds, Queen of Hearts, Jack of Clubs, ten of Diamonds . . . and the nine of Clubs. And when he saw my hand, he knew what I knew . . .that I had beaten him by one card. He had a King high Straight, I had an Ace High Straight.

Jones just shook his head, got up and left. The table still held his funds and the nine-thousand-dollar buy-in . . . and it was all mine.

XXXXXXXX

Jeff had left a note to meet him in the bar of the Belle Grand, and that's what I did. I was nervous as a cat . . . first of all, I was carryin' a lot of money, and secondly, I hadn't played poker like that in a long time. Jeff had two glasses of whiskey and a big smile on his face. He picked up one of the glasses and handed it to me. I usually don't drink anything stronger than wine, but I needed somethin' to steady my nerves and I took the whiskey. "How did you know?" I asked him.

"I was standin' here when I saw Earl come down the stairs. The expression on his face said everything."

"Where's the bank in this town?" I wanted to get this money in the bank before somebody knocked me over the head and stole it. Then the funds could be wired to the bank in Little Bend.

"Three doors down. I'll walk down there with you."

I finished what I couldn't gag down earlier of the whiskey and we left for the bank. I sighed a breath of relief once we got inside and asked for the bank manager. He looked to be a bright young fellow and I told him who I was and what I needed done. "Of course, Mr. Maverick. How much do you have?"

I wasn't really sure, I hadn't counted it. I let him count it, and I just stood there in awe. By the time he got done, he was well over twenty-thousand dollars. I kept out five hundred dollars travelin' money and had the rest sent home. Then I went to the Western Union office and sent Doralice a wire. _'Heading home tomorrow._ _Got what I needed. Wired it to Little Bend. Miss you like crazy. Love, Bart._' Jeff was still with me. "What's the best restaurant in town?"

"The best restaurant or the best food?" He asked. It was a good question.

"The best food."

"John's Steakhouse."

"Are they still open at this time of night?

It was almost eleven o'clock. "Nope. But they open at noon tomorrow."

"Alright. I'll meet you there at noon. Anything you want. I'm buyin'."

"Bart, you don't have to . . . "

I interrupted him. "Oh yes, I do. And as soon as lunch is over I'm gettin' on my horse and headin' for home."

"How long is that gonna take you?"

"Two and a half or three days. That's why I sent Doralice the wire. At least she knows I'll be one my way."

"She's gotta be so excited."

"I'm hopin' she is."

XXXXXXXX

I'd packed last night but I bought supplies this morning. Then I got Baron saddled and tied him outside John's Steakhouse. We were both early and enjoyed a last drink before lunch.

Jeff was right, that was the best meal I'd eaten in a long time. When it was over we said goodbye and shook hands. I told him if he ever got to Little Bend to ask for Bart Maverick. Almost anybody in town could direct him to the ranch. He promised he would.

It took me almost three days to get home. I probably could have been there a little sooner but I stopped at the bank to make sure they'd gotten the funds. Then I had the money transferred into the ranch account. I had to apologize to Baron later, but I rode him like the devil himself was chasin' me to get to the ranch. Once I'd tied him to the hitchin' post he turned around and gave me the ugliest look. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Doralice pulled the door open just as I got to it and she practically flew into my arms. About five minutes later I heard Lily Mae shout, "Are you ever gonna stop kissin' on the front porch and come inside?"

Finally, we acquiesced and came in. In just a minute I had all five of the kids around me askin' questions and tellin' me how much they missed me (Belle was at college). That was over in just a few minutes and I grabbed Doralice's hand and pulled her into my office and closed the door.

"Please don't ever leave for that long again." She had her head on my shoulder.

"You know why I had to."

"Yeah, but that didn't make it any easier."

"The good news is I shouldn't have to. Ever again."

"Then you were successful. I knew you would be." Now her hand was in mine.

"Very successful. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to go upstairs with my wife and show her just how much I missed her."

"Oh you would, would you? Can't you wait until after supper? Lily Mae will have a fit if we miss another meal."

"Let her have a fit. I've been waitin' for weeks, I ain't gonna let a meal stop me."

Doralice giggled, and then laughed, and I was lost. I do so love that laugh. I picked her up and carried her upstairs, not really caring if Lily Mae approved or not. And we didn't come out until the next morning.

The End


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